Love Delayed (8 page)

“Is that why Angela said you’re referred to as the NBA rocker boy?”

He shook his head. “At first it started off as a locker room jibe, but as the years passed, and…incidences occurred, the moniker seemed to fit. And I never really gave a fuck about what people thought of me anyway.” He tossed his lips into the air.

“So, how do you know about philosophy?”

He went for his glass and took a gulp. “I know a little bit about everything. When you’re a promising all-star player, you’re given tools most kids from your city are incapable of dreaming about. When my talent was discovered, I was provided tutors to keep me afloat in school. I had curriculums that covered the state requirements and were catered to my learning ability.”

“Nice. Having everything handed to you.” I tried to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

“Nope. I had to go to class. I had to perform well academically. I only had two responsibilities: maintain my studies and maneuver the ball. My schedules were set for me and that’s all I did for years. I knew guys in some of the ball camps I went to who didn’t fare well with school.” He shrugged. “I so happened to be a sponge and soaked up everything, but only retained what interested me. I didn’t have much of a life outside of
dribbling a ball
, as you so eloquently put it last week at the restaurant. Sometimes it was my escape from the court when there was too much pressure from others’ expectations. I had great tutors, which is why I can respect what you do. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have made the grades that I did because I put in so many hours on the court.”

“Hmmm…” I chewed on the inside of my lip.

Stenton angled his head to the side. “What’s never brought up is the controversy during the summer I got drafted. America had so much to say about my decision to skip college. I had been offered a full ride to Rutgers, UCLA, Howard, Florida State and a few other schools.”

“For basketball,” I asserted.

Stenton shook his head. “Those schools were for academic achievements. I didn’t name the ones for sports. But everyone seems to Google those offering scholarships for balling. The same info can be found about my academic accomplishments. I could have gone either way. I simply went with my passion. Why not circumvent the journey and go straight to my passion?”

Why did I suddenly feel like crap?
Who knew he was more than a dribbling jock? The man with the filthy mouth, whorish behavior, and tattoo shell had a brain, too?   

“What do you know about…trigonometry?
” I quizzed.

“Ah, man
, that sine, cosine and tangent ‘where a D is constant’ bullshit bored the hell out of me. I was a
B
student at best there.” Stenton chuckled.

“Okay. What about…
quantum mechanics?” I took it up several notches.

“That’s the more modern science. I’m from the old school where we learned elementary particles, atoms, molecules, substances…metals, crystals and other groups of matter. Not that
New Age shit.”

I took in a forkful and chewed while looking
him directly in the eye. “You never answered my question though,” I challenged slickly, feeling the need to get one off on him. He was probably okay in school, but he wasn’t Zoey type of good.

Stenton rolled his eyes as he sighed and dropped his fork
onto his plate, making a clash of it. “Quantum mechanics pretty much provides an extensive framework for several features of the
modern
periodic table. One thing it encompasses is the activities of atoms during chemical bonding. That
bullshit
has been substantial in the development of many modern technologies. Blah…blah…blah.”

My mouth dropped.
“Jeez Louise! You’re a geek!”

Stenton snorted. “I
’d much rather be called a cerebral rocker baller,” he murmured as he went back for his food.

I realized from that conversation that there was more to Stenton than just his tattoos and a ball.
Why was it that no one talked about that aspect of his abilities? Why was he never quizzed on trivia during interviews? It would provide a great spin for shows and make their talk a lot less mundane. I’d guessed that Stenton was right when he said people only know what they want to know.

I, on the other hand, wanted to know more.

My fixation with Stenton took off at that point. I found that he occupied my thoughts throughout my day, no matter where I was or what I was doing. I could be in class and found myself etching his name, at church and itched to check his timeline, and/or out with the guy I was seeing at the time, Andrew, and wondering what Stenton’s conversations were like while on a date.

Almost immediately, our friendship seemed to have evolved to written communication via inboxes on Facebook. They were random, fun and exciting all at
once. I’d nervously initiate mine and hold my breath awaiting his response. I knew he was a busy man doing I had no idea what, but busy.  

~~~~~~~~~~

Me:
I have a question that you can’t be offended by.

I waited for his reply.

Stenton:
I’m game. Do you.

Me:
Ummmm... Are those your real teeth?

My heart beat wildly in my chest. It was a burning question I
’d had since the first time I’d seen his smile. His real smile. Not only was I struck by how long it took to experience it, but also by its radiance. The brilliance of Stenton’s smile was blinding. I was growing attached to it. He was generous with sharing it with me. Experiencing that man’s smile was like discovering a crisp well on a parching pilgrimage. It instantly decompressed all stressors.

Stenton:
What the fuck Zo? LMAO

Me:
IJS! They’re kinda big...too nicely aligned.

Stenton:
And so are your boobs but you don’t see me inquiring about their authenticity.

Me:
Don’t be pigheaded, you dork.

I wouldn
’t speak on the sensation that flashed in my core at his comeback. That was private along with the rest of the inexplicable things he caused me to feel without his hands...or mouth.

Stenton:
Don’t go getting all prudish. I used to get teased a lot as a kid about my big ass choppers. Trust me when I say I've grown into them.

Me:
I don’t believe you.

Stenton:
Don’t believe what?

Me:
That your teeth are real.

Stenton:
I’ll prove it to you.

Me:
How?

Stenton:
I don’t know. I’ll think of something
.
And then you’ll prove your boobs are real.

Me:
Dude! I’m poor. My parents can’t afford a boob job!

Stenton:
But you studied around rich people. Who’s to say you didn’t have a sponsor?

Me:
Touché

I tossed my phone
in my purse before Andrew returned to the car and found me entranced in it. He stopped in
WaWa
to get cash for our date this evening. The entire conversation with Stenton had me blushing so hard my face hurt. Too many racy thoughts were running through my mind to continue this conversation. The first being how I would inspect this man’s teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~

Me:
I did it.

I typed and hit
send
. Butterflies took flight in my belly. I was taking a risk, but he was the first person I wanted to share this news with for some crazy reason.

It would be over an hour before I got a reply.

Stenton:
Did what?

Me:
I broke up with Andrew.

Stenton:
Who the hell is Andrew?

Me:
My boyfriend, you geek.

Stenton:
Still no wow factor?

He remembered? Excitement
kindled throughout my body.

Me:
None.

Stenton:
LMAO What finally did it?

Me:
We were at his place and he was flipping through the music channels. He was trying to find music to set the mood I guess and skipped over the rock channel (btw “Love Somebody” was playing) to find another genre I asked him to turn back. He said no and that he wanted jazz. I grabbed my stuff and left. I mean, who doesn’t feel like getting “wowed” off Maroon 5?

I held my breath after hitting send, wondering if I gave too much. I must have read my message twice before Stenton’s
response came through.

Stenton:
Maybe he thought you wanted to get messy like they did in the video. All jokes aside… Who in the hell needs music to set the mood? You can make your own sounds to get off. He’s a fucking asshat…an asshat that doesn’t like to get messy apparently.

My head
dipped back and I laughed to the point of tears, never mind the bit of arousal I felt when I momentarily allowed my mind to wander to the sounds Stenton alluded to.  

Me:
Are you busy?

Stenton:
Kinda. In a meeting with my McDonalds reps.

Oh,
noooo!

Me:
Stenton! That’s pretty important. Go! Stop inboxing!

Stenton:
My lawyer’s a fucking pit bull. He’s here putting fire under their asses.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. He was busy. Although I wanted to chat more, had endless questions and topics to explore, he was in fact busy. My fingers tapped the wall to the right of me, contemplating.

Stenton:
I know you’re making that clicking sound with the back of your mouth. It’s cool Zo. The conversation is flowing. I’ll end our conversation here but let’s hang out tomorrow. You can give me more details on your breakup.

I stopped the sound when I realized I was making it. It was a bizarre call on his part. It felt like a small and intimate fact only someone who paid attention would catch.
Did Andrew know I had that bad habit?
My mind raced with what that meant.

Me:
Okay.

Stenton:
And Zo…you could’ve text me with this. You would’ve gotten a quicker response.

Okay. This is my last message to him.

Me:
I don’t have your number, geek!

Stenton:
215/555-9658

Then

August 2006                                                                                                               

~
Zoey
~

It was the
middle of August, only a week before we were due to complete
Working Toward the Stars.
When Angela was done with whatever she was doing with Alton, we drove her car to church. Our cousin, Karen, texted us the night before asking to meet her there when we were done with our summer internship.

Of course
, she wouldn’t know we were done hours earlier, but had to wait for Ang’s extra curriculum activities to conclude before we were actually considered done for the day. What concerned me was her demeanor. Ang wasn’t her usual chatty self. She seemed preoccupied as her oscillating eyes faced the road.

“Was it that bad?” I teased.

“What was that?” she barely paid me a glance.

“Today…with Alton. Was it that bad that you don’t have much conversation for me?
”

“Oh, that asshole?” She sucked her teeth. “Not only is he selfish, not wanting to go down on me, he also likes to try the most awkward positions. He’s a total bust, that little guy.” I couldn’t fight my grimace.

“TMI, Ang,” I warned.

Ang
waved the entire conversation off. “Nah, I’m just thinking about what this meeting could possibly be about. You know Aunt Jenny and Uncle Al are going to flip when they find out about the pregnancy.”

“Yeah, but we’ve talked to her. I think we were pretty successful in our encouragement,” I reminded her.

“Yeah,” Ang sighed. “I hope so.”

When we arrived inside the dining room of the church, we learned how wrong we both were. Karen was there with our aunt Jenny, who wasn’t as bubbly as usual. As soon as Karen laid eyes on us, she leaped to her feet and made her way over to us by the door of the large room.

When she was just inches away, Aunt Jenny called out, “Hi, ladies. I know this is short notice, but we need to get this wedding planned and done.” Her chunky arms waved animatedly in the air when she finally approached us. Karen looked mortified. Her eyes were swollen and red. Whatever she was going to share with us, Aunt Jenny intercepted it with her own agenda. “Now, Karen here couldn’t decide on which of the two of you would be her maid of honor. I have a feeling she doesn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, but I don’t have time for this. I wasn’t given proper notice, ya’ know. Let’s flip a coin. Call out heads or tails,” she charged while rummaging through her purse.

Angela and I turned to each other, now appearing just as
mortified as Karen. She did it. She let them set the path for her. Our pep talk did nothing, or not enough. Karen was just a year younger than Angela and me. We grew up in the same church community whose views on marriage being the answer to pregnancies outside of wedlock were outdated.

Karen and her boyfriend, BJ
, had been together for three years and were in love, but hardly ready to commit to marriage. She’d been keeping the pregnancy from her parents for almost a month. She had only told us last week. Karen pretty much shared our views on delaying marriage to explore life. But she was also still in high school.

BJ
, on the other hand, was the organist at our church and was in his second year at Middlesex County College. Her parents thought she was too young to date him at the beginning of their relationship, which in hindsight was true. Nonetheless, they dated and got pregnant. When she broke the news to Angela and me after Bible study last week, we took her out for dinner and attempted to give her arguments to present to her family in the event they tried to force marriage. When we’d left Karen that evening, she seemed determined and unwavering, Angela and I both agreed in a subsequent conversation. We were wrong.

“You got it,
Zo,” Angela sulked, unable to squeeze those words out.

I didn’t care about the title. I was devastated by this centur
ies-old practice of marrying young people off simply because an unexpected pregnancy had occurred. I was seething, so upset that I didn’t respond. Instead, I made an about-face and left them in the dining room.

This can’t be the cloth I’m cut from
.      

As I stomped my way to Angela’s car, I heard ruckus behind me. I turned to find Angela on my heels, wearing a similar scowl. Her flip-flops flapping up dust in her wake. Then I saw my
Aunt Jenny burst through the side door, clearly angry.

“You don’t talk to me like that, young lady! I am your auntie!” Angela
didn’t even glance back before she reached for the door. “I’ll call your momma and see what she has to say about this, young lady!”

“Let’s go,
Zo!” Angela screamed, waking me from my stupor.

I jump
ed in the passenger seat, and before I could strap up, Angela was peeling out of the parking lot.

“What in the world happened in there,
Ang?” It was my turn to flog my arms.

“I cursed her ass out three shades of Sunday,” Angela hissed as she kept her eyes
on the road.

I knew we both shared the same vehemence against our family’s archaic practices, but never had we disrespected anyone. The rims of Angela
’s eyes were pink. She was about to cry.

“What’s going on here, Angela? What would make you curse at Aunt Jenny?”

“Because I want her to prepare my mother for what’s waiting for her if she tries to pull that marriage shit on me!” The first tear spilled. Less than a half a second later, the stream came.

“
Ang, how long have you known you’re pregnant?” At this point, I was struggling to keep my food down. There were just too many surprises in one day.

“Long enough to get this over with. You’re the first to know. I have to tell everyone else now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Whatever it is you’re writing must be pretty important,” his voice held its usual gruff and heaviness.

My mouth collapsed as my eyes focused in on Stenton. I was squatting against the wall, staring up at his fierce visage. He was freshly showered and in a grey t-shirt and cargo shorts with a baseball cap turned to the back. Having less of his tattoos exposed and two large diamond studs pinned to his ears, Stenton resembled a rapper rather than a rocker today.

And his scent…
God help me.

I must have been that engaged to not catch him coming.

“What do you mean?”

He gave me a one-sided grin. “You’re making that clicking sound with the back of your throat.”

Great
.

I collapsed my face into my hands. The last thing I expected to happen
, happened in that instant; I realized I could no longer deny my extreme attraction to this man. My life couldn’t get any more chaotic.  

“Hey…hey,” he softly sounded off. “What’s going on with you? And why are you over here in the corner like you’re hiding from someone?”

I am! From you.

I brought my head up to meet his quizzical gaze. Confusion etched his face and I couldn’t say I didn’t know why. I was being
awfully dramatic. Then he took me by the wrist, igniting fire in my core. He’d only touched my arm with his calloused hands and I was able to feel it all over.

“Let’s chat about it over a meal.” I managed to stand without giving away my weakened knees.
Stupid body!
“I know you’re starved. Your hungry ass always is.”

“I was waiting for Angela.” I sort of lied.

I was waiting on Angela. I’d assumed she was saying her final goodbyes to Alton…in the moral manner. I’d hoped. But the other truth was I was avoiding Stenton.

“She and Alton were in a heated conversation when I passed them. He knows I’m going to grab a bite. They’ll find us.”

“Mr. Rogers!” I heard someone call just beyond Stenton. “Mr. Rogers…”

Within seconds Jeffrey appeared and you c
ould see the revelations—accurate or not—visibly running through his mind. “Oh,” was all he could say initially.

And initially I panicked, but then I remembered that I’d made it to the end of the summer and didn’t need to care. I was so stressed that getting kicked out wouldn’t have had the same effect as it would have earlier on.

“Ms. Barrett,” Jeffery greeted pointedly, I’d guessed indirectly asking for an explanation for me speaking with Stenton Rogers “after hours.” That explanation would never come. I was too preoccupied to care that I didn’t care.

“Jeffery?” Stenton call
ed his attention from me. “You wanted me for…?”

“Oh…oh!”
He chuckled, pushing up his frames. “I’ll be on vacation all next week and I know you’ll be done here when I return. I was hoping you could sign this jersey for my son, Christopher Peter.” Jeffrey held up a toddler size
76er’s
jersey.

Stenton smiled politely as he took the jersey from Jeffrey. “It’ll be my pleasure. And I’m sure Elizabeth here won’t be penalized if I
take her to lunch. She’s been extremely gracious my entire time here. I’d like to thank her.”

I couldn’t help my gasp. What was Stenton doing?

Jeffrey’s pleading eyes shot over to me. I guess he didn’t want me to decline Stenton’s offer. “
Su
-sure! That’s perfectly fine. Please…enjoy, Ms. Barrett.”

As soon as Stenton was done being Stenton Rogers, we headed over to the restaurant. Once we were seated with menus, Stenton d
idn’t hesitate.

“So, what were you documenting in the gym
?” He gave a reverse nod, gesturing where we’d just left.

“It’s called journaling, geek.” I rolled my eyes.

“Okay,” he muttered as he straightened in his seat. “May I ask what has you so affected that you’re journaling here?”

I fought with if I should share. The battle had a short life. Once I whispered the first word, the remainder came out spirited
ly. I told him about my family’s obsolete beliefs and how it had caught up to my generation with Karen. I left Angela out of the conversation feeling she was too close to an associate of Stenton’s—or more like it was a sore topic. When I was done, I exhaled. I don’t know what I expected, but it felt odd when Stenton sat back in his chair and didn’t utter a word for a while.

I’d wondered if he’d paid attention until he asked, “What are your aspirations?”

W
-what?

“Aspirations?”

“Yeah…” The waiter came to take our order, but Stenton raised his finger dismissing him and the uniformed man scurried off. “When we were at
Sergue
, you mentioned your goals and that they mirrored Angela’s.”

He remembers that?

“Oh…ummm.” I was floored. He had been listening. I wasn’t expecting that. “Well, to break this cycle of…societal norms in Christendom. The ultimate goal of a woman shouldn’t be marriage, having babies and making a home for her husband. I want to travel the world, explore the wonders of it. I want to find who Zoey is and why God put her here. I know my purpose supersedes the small box my family and church leaders try to put me and other young women in.”

“So, how are you going to prove it? What’s your plan?”

“First, to stay away from marriage long enough to find out if it’s even for me. Second, to finish undergrad, move on to
Wharton
for my MBA, and get a good job to help my family out. I want to provide relief for my parents, and that can’t happen if I’m in some man’s house, cooking, cleaning and making his babies.”

Stenton nodded meditatively. Maybe because I needed to make my voice heard, but for some reason, I felt like I’d connected with him.

“Let’s get you something to eat. You’ll need your energy to lead the next wave of the feminist movement.” He cracked a playful smile.

“I’m no feminist, Stenton!” I feigned
being offended.

“Good, because if you were, I’d have to insist on you paying for this expensive ass meal we’re about to partake
of.”

I laughed so hard that I snorted like a pig, unabashedly.

“Nah,” he attempted to sober up from our laughter. “I think you can do whatever you want, Zo. If you have plans to assist your family instead of pursuing what your family views as traditional goals, go for it.”

“I know I have to strategize better, but I at least know what I don’t want.”

“You may not have your plans organized from A to Z, but you have a vision and passion. That combination is what brings dreams into fruition. You’re a spitfire.” He snorted and then inclined in his seat. “My mom used to have this little mutt. She couldn’t have been more than six inches off the ground and weighed less than five pounds. Mom called her Niña. And she would fuss every dog out in the neighborhood…I mean even the biggest Rottweilers that were chained to their yards. My mom used to laugh and say if she came face-to-face with one of them without leashes being involved, Niña wouldn’t have much of a bark.”

He chuckled as he stared into the distance
, I assumed, visualizing the memory. I was captivated. “One day, a big ass German Shepherd got loose and chased my mother. I saw my mother hauling ass up the walkway for the house when I opened the door. Somehow little Niña came charging past me then my mom and toward the German Shepherd. I saw that miniature mutt sprint so hard that when the German Shepherd saw her, he skidded his brakes and made a U-turn to his yard with Niña racing after him. By the time I caught up with them, she had her canines pierced into his left front leg. She only punctured his skin, but scared the shit out of him with her ferocious determination.” His eyes rose to mine. “That’s you: small in size, but big in bite. Fiercely determined.”